And who are you, the proud lord said,
That I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
That´s all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold, or a coat of red,
The lion still has claws,
And mine are long, and sharp my lord,
As long and sharp as yours.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
That lord of Castamere.
But now the rains, weep over his hall,
With no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains, weep over his hall,
With not a soul to hear.